No White Light
by Melira
Summary: All she wanted was for him to make her stay. But this one time she wished he'd be selfish, he wasn't. So she has to watch him go once more when actually she is the one leaving. Teresa Lisbon's POV of the last scene of 06x20 "Il Tavolo Bianco". One-shot.


_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist._

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She could hear his voice crack with every word, could hear the pain in it, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. In this moment of honesty, she felt like she could really see through him for the very first time since she had first met him.

"That is the most important thing to me. That you do what makes you happy."

It sounded like a confession, like something really hard to say. Something he had thought about for a long time and hadn't had the courage to say. Until now when it was too late. Almost.

She wanted him to say more, to say the words necessary to make her stay with him. Those very few words she had been waiting for for so long.

But he didn't. He just looked at her, unable to conceal the sadness in his eyes, and she felt the moment pass away. That precious second in which he could have changed everything.

"'Kay", he just said instead, his voice catching on the small word, and turned away from her, walking down the few steps and into the darkness.

She felt like she was letting him go forever, like this had been the end of their time together, of that horrible and wonderful experience. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. She didn't want to cry, didn't want to feel anything right now, but her heart betrayed her. It ached for the man who just had, for the very first time, acted chivalrous and selfless. The one time she had wanted him to serve himself, to do what he wanted to do, he hadn't. That one time in twelve years, he had turned the tables and done the exact opposite. She should have known it. He never did what she wanted him to do, so why should he start now?

He just had always been so set on getting what he wanted, hadn't cared what he did to others in the process. She had hoped it would be the same now.

Because she knew what he wanted. She had seen it in the disappointment on his face when she hadn't been home alone, in the defeat in his voice when he had told her he had brought enough to eat for two and in the sadness in his eyes when he had turned to leave. She could still see it in the heavy steps he took across her front-lawn and in his slightly hunched posture.

He wanted to stay, wanted her to stay. But he hadn't dared saying it so she could be with another man. He accepted the pain her happiness caused him.

All of a sudden he was the one making sacrifices for her. All the other times it had been the other way round. He had left and she had been the one suffering.

Every time he had just disappeared, to Las Vegas, at the cliff and finally after he had fulfilled his promise to avenge his family's death. He had left her behind so many times, apparently not caring what it did to her, he had always set his goals before her feelings. And every single time had she accepted him back. Because she couldn't live without him. She had acted grumpy, had told him off, had let him feel how much he had hurt her, but on the inside, she had just been relieved. In the church, when he had suddenly been sitting behind her, in the hospital when he had finally woken up, and in the FBI office.

That moment, when she had seen him for the first time in two years, had been the happiest she could remember. It had meant an end to her new life, the one she didn't want to lead, the one without him. He had once again offered her the excitement that working with him meant. She had barely known how much she had missed it. The ridiculous plans he came up with, the thrill when they caught a killer almost too good to catch. The sight of his sleeping figure on the well-worn brown leather couch.

And he had offered her his company. The one thing she had missed the most.

So she had accepted, too grateful to think about what it would do to her if he left again. Never would she have thought that she could be the one leaving him behind. And now here she was, watching him go because he didn't want to interfere with her life anymore. Seeing the pain it caused him. She caused him. And she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't hold him back. She needed him to make the first step, to finally go on with his life and reach closure with his past. She couldn't do that for him.

She had tried to give him time, had waited, had delayed the decision to leave for D.C., had given him the opportunity to find the words to hold her back.

"I love you. Stay."

But the words had never come.

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 _A/N: I assume not everyone agrees with this rather one-sided perspective of her feelings - if so, feel free to tell me, I'd be interested in other views on the matter!  
I hope you enjoyed reading! Thanks in every case!  
Maybe one last piece to come, still not sure about that... We'll see :-)_


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